Two by Traci Thompson
by yoplait2000
Summary: Seven, could you love me?" A stupid question, having established that love was confusing to her. But he had to ask.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, here's the first installment of my story for your general amusement. I hope pasting it into hotmail doesn't screw up the spacing etc. If it looks weird, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

_So I'm going to seek a certain girl I've had in mind _

_Looking everywhere, haven't found her yet..._

The Doctor was alone in Sickbay, going about his usual tasks; filing, scanning, tending to substances in tubes, humming to himself contentedly... until he realized he was unconsciously humming the tune of "Someone to Watch Over Me."

_Oh, no_, he thought, setting down the data padd in his hand. _Stop! _

_She's the big affair I cannot forget..._

The incessant tune refused to leave his holographic mind, along with the recent memories and images it recalled. He sighed. Would he ever stop thinking about her, wishing everything was different? Thoughts of Seven were interfering with his work, and with time not spent working, for that matter. Only cybernetic oblivion offered any peace. Every time he activated himself, his first thought after _"Please state the nature of the medical emergency_" was _I wonder how Seven is today?_ followed by the hurtful memory of her voice saying _there are no potential mates for me aboard this vessel_. And he certainly could never go to the holodeck again without thinking of the time he spent there with her.

He walked to his desk and sat down miserably. _This must stop_, he told himself. _As B'Elanna would say, "Doc, get over it!" Seven has made it perfectly clear that there is no one for her aboard Voyager. That obviously includes me. If she ever even considered me. Perhaps I should have told her how I feel regardless...no, the rejection would simply be too painful. And of course it's not her fault. She just can't feel...no, I am trying to find an excuse. It has nothing to do with residual Borgness. The truth is, no one could ever feel romantic towards a hologram...towards me. But it wouldn't matter if no one else could, if only *she* could feel that way._

Brows knitted, his sad brown eyes stared at his clasped hands on the desktop. _At least I still have her friendship. That is worth so much to me. But how can I forget? How can I work and spend time with her as before? It will be so hard. Things will be the same for her, but they will not be for me, and she won't understand why. _

He was seriously considering asking B'Elanna to erase his memory of the past few days when the Captain's voice broke in.

"Janeway to the Doctor."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Please come to the briefing room. I've called a conference with the senior staff."

"On my way, Captain."

The Doctor stood and attached the mobile emitter to his arm. He thought of how grateful he was for the distraction as he exited sickbay, only to remember as the doors closed behind him that Seven would be there, too. Well, he couldn't hide in sickbay for the rest of his existence. _Time to start getting over it_, he told himself resolutely.

* * * * *

"As some of you already know, we are approaching another Mutara-class nebula very similar to the one we previously encountered and were forced to nap through due to the excessive radiation," Janeway stated as she paced behind the crew's chairs. The Doctor tried to avoid looking at Seven by staring at the Captain and hanging on her every word. "We can't go around this one either, and so will have to go through it again, although this time the trip should be shorter."

Tom Paris' face was pained. "You don't mean we have to get in those coffins again?" he whined.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Paris. Using stasis chambers to put the crew in suspended animation still seems to be the best course of action, since most of us cannot withstand the radiation's effects for even a few minutes." Janeway returned to the head of the table as a general groan went around the room. "Everything went smoothly last time with Seven and the Doctor in charge." At that the Doctor glanced at Seven, who was sitting across from him. She turned her blue eyes to him and he felt his program flutter. "The problems that arose were dealt with - even you, Mr. Paris," Janeway said with a wry smile, referring to Tom's sleepwalking habits. "I have no doubt that Seven and the Doctor will be able to handle it this time, too, even more so since this trip should only take about a week. Hopefully, the shorter time period will prevent the radiation from wreaking much havoc on the ship's - and Seven and the Doctor's - systems."

Janeway turned to Chakotay. "Chakotay, work on assembling the stasis chambers, and let me know when they're ready. I'll be making a ship-wide announcement."

"Yes, Captain."

"Doctor, you and Seven make any preparations you feel necessary." Janeway beamed a smile full of confidence at them. "Dismissed."

The Doctor was the only one who noticed the fear in Seven's eyes.

* * * * *

Chakotay and the Doctor worked diligently, Chakotay setting up the stasis chambers while the EMH ran tests to make sure all systems were functioning properly. As he performed his duties, the Doctor contemplated the coming week and the prospect of being virtually alone on the ship with Seven.

It would certainly be different than the last time, and different too than how it would have been just a few weeks ago. His memories of the first nebula experience were not pleasant. He and Seven had constantly bickered, and he deeply regretted that. _I didn't really know her then like I do now,_ he thought. _If only I had realized how dear she would become to me! But then, it was sort of fun even to argue with her._ His face broke out into a crooked smile as he continued to push buttons. _She was annoying, but so was I, I_ _must admit._ _We had a certain rapport even then_. His smile faded into a worried look as he recalled Seven's hallucinations. She had been terrified and alone. That was the first time he had been able to see past the cool Borg exterior and realize that Seven harbored deep, abiding fears she hid masterfully from everyone. Her humanity had shone through the cracks in the Borg mask even as she insisted "I will adapt." The Doctor paused in his work as guilt became his primary emotion_. If only I had been there for her then...she was so alone...although my mobile emitter wasn't working, there should have been something I could have done to protect her! The enemies weren't real, but they were very real to her...and I was all she had. _He resumed working. No use thinking about the past, after all, and there were the more recent times, after they had grown closer. He smiled again as he thought of how he understood her more and more and delighted that she seemed to enjoy his company. He longed to give her joy always, and take the fear and loneliness away. If only she could want him to...if only she would let him! He would try with every photon of his being. _And she could take my loneliness away_...

He squashed the thought. _We are good friends. I will help her get through this nebula... we will get the crew through it together, and then go on being good friends afterwards. _

The Doctor checked the last few chambers and addressed Chakotay. "Commander, I believe we are ready."

* * * * *

_Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unamatrix 01. You have left the Many, you are only One. You are weak and pathetic. _

_I will adapt!_

_You cannot. You are alone. You cannot survive. A Borg cannot be One. She will die as One._

_It is dark..._

_Annika was afraid of the dark. She was weak, as you have become._

_You know what you are._

_I am an individual._

_You cannot rejoin the Collective and you cannot be human, you can never be human. You are nothing._

_Seven, my program is destabilizing! Help me! _

_I can repair you..._

_You are too imperfect now. You are not efficient._

_Seven, help! Help me!_

_No, please, I cannot function alone!_

_You deserve to be alone. You are the murderer_ _of millions._

_I acted as part of the collective..._

_You think that absolves you of guilt? You have killed us! It is your fault that we no longer exist!_

_YOU WILL DIE ALONE._

Seven jerked out of her regeneration alcove, trembling and panting, and fell into the dark and quiet cargo bay on her hands and knees. It was happening again...but was it the radiation? Or a dream? Or perhaps both?

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Seven jumped and gasped at the voice. _I am weak!_ she spat mentally at herself, hating the vulnerability and fear. She clenched her teeth and pulled herself upright, seeming ready to do battle with her demons. But the trembling wouldn't stop, the shadows seemed to encroach upon her. In a moment her shoulders slumped slightly as she gave in to the emotions. "I cannot be alone," she said aloud in a desperate voice. "Computer, locate EMH."

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

Seven jumped and gasped at the voice. _I am weak!_ she spat mentally at herself, hating the vulnerability and fear. She clenched her teeth and pulled herself upright, seeming ready to do battle with her demons. But the trembling wouldn't stop, the shadows seemed to encroach upon her. In a moment her shoulders slumped slightly as she gave in to the emotions. "I cannot be alone," she said aloud in a desperate voice. "Computer, locate EMH."

* * * * *

The Doctor had made the rounds by himself that day to give Seven time to regenerate, visiting the bridge and checking each crew member's vital signs. He had just arrived back in Sickbay when Seven asked the computer for his whereabouts.

So far, four days had gone by uneventfully. The Doctor had caught himself staring wistfully at Seven on a few occasions, but sternly stopped himself and focused instead on the happy facts that they were getting along wonderfully this time around, and the radiation had so far not had a detrimental effect on anything. Not to mention that he was immensely enjoying having Seven's company all to himself.

_I'm probably enjoying it too much_, he thought grimly.

He took off his mobile emitter and set it on the desk in his office. "This is probably a good time to get back to those experiments I had started," he said to himself as he strolled back to the main Sickbay area. He paused for a moment to contemplate the strange pink sight of the nebula passing the Sickbay windows.

It was then the doors _whooshed_ open and an agitated Seven rushed in. The Doctor turned and saw her looking terrified, angry, and slightly embarrassed at the same time, chest heaving in her plum-colored bodysuit, a strand or two of blonde hair escaping from its upsweep. Had she run all the way to Sickbay?

"Seven! What's the matter?" He strode towards her, grabbing a hypospray on his way.

"I believe it is the radiation. I heard voices. I was...afraid." He noticed she was trembling.

"Are you having hallucinations?"

"No, at least not yet. Only voices."

"Unfortunately, I was expecting this, given what happened last time. I prepared the antidote in advance. It should take care of any voices or hallucinations, at least for while," he said, injecting her neck. "I will need to readminister it periodically until we're through the nebula."

Seven nodded. She tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, and the Doctor watched her try to regain total control. She was still slightly trembling.

"Seven, would you like to talk about what happened?" he asked, his expression concerned.

"No, I do not. But thank you," she remembered to add.

"Alright." He set the hypospray down. Seven did not make any move to leave. There was an awkward moment; he hesitated, and then asked, "As your doctor, may I suggest another therapy?"

"Of course."

"May I give you a hug?" _You idiot_, he thought. _What are you doing?_ But he couldn't help it. She looked so afraid, and was fighting it alone. He couldn't just stand there with her in front of him looking miserable. If she wouldn't talk to him, perhaps physical comfort would help. Besides, there was no one around to start any rumors and make the moment something it wasn't.

Seven looked even more uncomfortable, with her eyes turned down from his. "I am not proficient with demonstrations of affection."

The Doctor tried to smile. "It's alright, I understand." _Time to change the subject_. "Perhaps you'd like to..."

"...But I am willing to try," she interrupted. She looked up and her eyes still had the haunted look.

Surprised, he said, "Of course," and moved to slowly put his arms around her. She was tense, both, he knew, from the former trauma and from the unaccustomed contact. _Perhaps I should make it quick_, he thought; then, _No, she needs this_. Neither spoke as he held her and gently massaged her back until her trembling stopped and she began to relax. The Doctor had cause to be surprised again when she put her head on his shoulder. He didn't want to move, for fear the moment would end and she would bolt like a frightened animal. And it felt so right for her to be leaning on him like this, nestled in his arms. _You are making this so hard for yourself_, he lamented inwardly. _It's bad enough when you're not touching her._ But if he could comfort her, it was worth it. If Seven of Nine needed anything, it was that. And if he could provide it, he was happy. He would hold her until Voyager reached the other side of the nebula...

Seven lifted her head and began to move away. She looked better, but confused. "Thank you, Doctor," she said softly. "I am feeling much better now."

"Anytime," he said sincerely, missing the contact already. She had quickly reverted back to her normal rod-straight pose, but still made no move to go, and seemed to be searching for something to say. Was she trying to think of a reason to stay? "Um, I have checked the stasis units and the ship's systems, and everything seems to be fine."

"Very good." Seven seemed happy to have a topic of conversation. "Is Mr. Paris behaving himself?" she asked drily.

Her attempts at humor were getting better. "Oh yes, thanks to those restraining devices we put on him. His claustrophobia would reach new heights if he knew we strapped him to his coffin," the Doctor said, smiling gleefully. "No, he shouldn't be a problem, unless he turns out to be stronger than we thought." The Doctor remembered why Seven hadn't been with him checking the stasis units. "Did you finish regenerating?"

"No."

"Well, perhaps you should finish, then. I could meet you later..."

"No," she said quickly, and a bit more forcefully than she had intended. "I prefer to wait."

"I understand," he said. Then, hopefully, "Would you like to spend some time with me on the holodeck? Maybe it would be a good distraction for you. The radiation so far has not affected me, so the holodeck should be usable as well. The ship and crew are doing fine, no reason we shouldn't be able to take a break for a little while."

"Yes," she said, sounding slightly relieved. The Doctor was pleasantly surprised, since Seven generally shunned recreation. "I would like that. Is my attire suitable, or should I change?"

"I think we should dress up, as we did for our last lesson. Often, looking nice on the outside can make one feel better on the inside." He said, then quickly clarified, "But we don't have to wear exactly the same clothes as last time." He was afraid that seeing her in the same outfit she was wearing when they danced might bring back too many emotions to deal with.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Why don't you surprise me? I'll wear a dark suit with a blue shirt."

Seven looked uncertain at picking out dressy attire, but replied, "I will try to find something suitable."

"Alright then, it's a date. I'll meet you on the holodeck in...what, half an hour?"

"I can be ready quickly."

"Fifteen minutes?"

"That is acceptable."

"See you there."

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

"Alright then, it's a date. I'll meet you on the holodeck in...what, half an hour?"

"I can be ready quickly."

"Fifteen minutes?"

"That is acceptable."

"See you there."

* * * * *

At the appointed time, the Doctor had the Sandrine's progam going and was sitting at the piano, humming and playing Beethovan's "Moonlight Sonata."

He had thought that last lesson would be the last time he would spend holodeck time with Seven, at least with the two of them alone and in a setting like this. He was so happy to be on a "date" with her again, even though he knew the experience would be tinged with sadness for him. He ran his fingers over the keys deftly, and his holographic heart was filled with many wishes as the music surrounded him. _It will be a last chance to pretend, before I give up the dream forever_, he justified it to himself.

Seven came in, and he stopped playing and stood up. She was wearing a thin-strapped and short deep royal blue dress, the color intensifying her eyes. Her hair was down, but not perfectly fixed, as if she had merely taken it out of its twist and shaken it. It waved around her face softly. The Doctor stared, momentarily dazzled.

Then he could not help but notice that his sexual subroutines were in good working order. _As if I needed to test that now_, he thought uncomfortably.

Seven began to look worried, and glanced down at herself. "Am I not acceptable?"

_If only you knew! _He snapped out of it. "Oh, no, Seven, you look absolutely lovely." He pointed out that her dress and his shirt were exactly the same shade of blue.

"I believe there is a saying, something about great minds," she said, with a slightly amused look.

He smiled. "Would you like to have dinner?"

"You were playing a song when I came in. It was...pretty." She looked uncomfortable saying the word. "I would like to hear it again, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not." He sat at the piano again and patted the seat, motioning her to sit next to him. She did, and he played and hummed for her. He glanced at her once in awhile, and she appeared to be listening, staring at the candle on the piano, the light flickering on her face. _She is so beautiful..._he ended the tune and just looked at her looking at the candle, intending to for as long as he could.

After a few moments, she said, "I am weak and alone."

"What, Seven?" he asked softly.

"That is what the voices said to me. They are right." Her voice was low and strained, and the Doctor had to lean close to hear her. She turned to look at him. "It was dark...I was weak and afraid."

He listened, waiting for her to say more. But she had turned away again and was silent.

What could he say? He decided to express himself through the music. What was something soothing? Conventional opera did not seem appropriate. Neither did classical; he wanted something with words he could sing to her. He thought for a minute, and then began to softly play and sing a selection from a version of _The Phantom of the Opera_.

_No more talk of darkness_

_Forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I'm here, nothing can harm you_

_My words will warm and calm you..._

_Let me be your freedom,_

_Let daylight dry your tears_

_I'm here, with you, beside you,_

_to guard you and to guide you..._

He looked at her. Her face had a softer look. Hopefully, it was working.

_Let me be your shelter_

_Let me be your light_

_You're safe, no one will find you_

_Your fears are far behind you..._

The Doctor suddenly realized that the next verse was _Say you'll love me every waking moment... _He began to hum without skipping a note. There was no way he could sing that to her. It was too true. _You *are* an idiot! _he berated himself. _Didn't you remember this is a *love* song??_

Seven's soft look turned to puzzlement. She cocked her head slightly to one side. "Doctor, why did you stop singing? The words are very appropriate... I was feeling better."

He continued playing. "I...um...well, I suppose..." He couldn't think of anything that didn't sound lame. How close to the truth could he get? "I...it...it _hurts_ me to sing the next part, Seven."

Her puzzled look persisted. "How does a song hurt you? Please explain."

_How do I get myself into these things? _He'd wanted to distract her, but he hadn't intended on this being the distraction. "The words, Seven...they...they remind me of something that hurts me, something that I can't have_,_" he finished, feeling rather embarrassed and miserable.

"What?" she said with blatant curiosity.

"Seven...I'd really rather not talk about it."

Of course, his saying this made her all the more curious. She scrutinized him as if he were a star chart, but said nothing. He wanted to squirm under that calculating gaze; it seemed to him she was looking straight through his photons.

He finished the song on an abrupt note and said rather firmly, "I think we should have that dinner now." She nodded acquiescence.

They went from the piano to a table that, like the piano, held a flickering candle. Seven was not too hungry, so they had a simple French meal of bread and cheese as they practiced the art of conversation. He tried to make his experiments sound as intriguing as possible_,_ and although he suspected she was merely pretending to be somewhat interested, he didn't mind; after all, this was a great leap of social skill for Seven, who ordinarily would simply sigh impatiently and project an unmistakably bored expression. He listened and tried to understand what she was saying about the latest in her field of expertise, but was pleasantly distracted by the way the candlelight reflected off her ocular implant. _Maybe B'Elanna could add some extra knowledge of astrometrics to my program, _he mused as he poured himself a little more wine. But at the moment, it didn't matter much what she was talking about, as long as she was talking to him_, _as long as they were spending time together, here, like this. There had been a time, during her social lessons, when he was exasperated by her lack of versatility in conversation. Now, it wasn't important at all.

What was important was that life would go back to normal on Voyager far too soon, and she would find someone else eventually, regardless of what she had said. The knowledge weighed on him like a glitch in his program that was irreparable. He wanted to at least have the memory of this, a holophotograph to look back on, the moment frozen in time, the now, a night that held the potential of all that could have been. Maybe it would be enough.

Seven fell silent, having run out of conversational topics and not liking irrelevant conversations, so they just looked at each other. The Doctor had taught her to try to interject conversation into long silences, but he hoped now she would forget his lesson. How could he have known that with her, it could be like this? This was a comfortable silence with no pressure. The Doctor smiled a small, wistful smile and let his memory take the holophoto, of her beautiful face looking on him and him alone, softened out of its usual rigidness by the half-light, eyes for this moment no longer haunted. _Seven, I love you_. He allowed himself to think it in the quiet moment, unspoken in the space between them.

After a long while, when the moment seemed to pass, he had to ask. "Seven, will you dance with me?"

"Yes," she answered in a low voice.

He stood and, taking her hand, led her to the dance floor.

"Computer, play 'Someone to Watch Over Me,' instrumental."

He gently placed one of her hands on his shoulder and the other in his hand. His other hand went to her back, and he saw her begin to concentrate intensely as he led her in the steps. However, in just a few minutes she began to relax somewhat, as she grew comfortable with how her feet were moving and remembered what she had learned in her former dance lesson. He hoped the fact she couldn't hurt him physically helped too. He chuckled at the memory of her mishap with Lieutenant Chapman.

"What is humorous?" she asked, just a touch defensively.

"Oh, I was just thinking of Chapman's torn ligament," he said, smiling amusedly yet kindly so she would not feel offended. "I'm glad that happened," he said sincerely, "or I might not have had the chance to dance with you myself."

"You enjoy this." She stated the sentence, but it was a question.

His expression became more serious. "Yes, very much."

He remembered that Chapman's injury had happened because Seven was trying to imitate a twirl she had seen another couple perform. The Doctor had shown Seven how to do the move, and she had seem pleased. "Would you like me to show you another dance move or two?"

Seven looked apprehensive. "I...suppose."

He showed her again, slowly, how to spin, and she seemed pleased again that he remembered even now that she had wanted to try it. When she was somewhat comfortable with the move, he showed her how to let him dip her and bring her back up. This was very awkward at first, as Seven was stiff as a proverbial board, but the Doctor patiently kept at it until she relaxed.

"Are you ready to try to put it all together?" he asked optimistically.

"I...suppose," she said again, still apprehensive. He smiled.

The Doctor ordered the computer to play an appropriate swing-type song, and he led her in incorporating the moves into their dancing, congratulating himself that his program allowed him to perform this type of dancing as well as any another. Her blue dress fluttered out slightly as he spun her around; he held her securely as he lowered her and her head went back, blonde hair almost brushing the floor, the sight giving his fantasy subroutines plenty of ideas that he didn't need to have.

When he brought her back up, her nose ended up less than an inch from his. If he had had breath, he would have held it; he wanted to kiss her badly, but resisted. _Oh Seven_...He concentrated instead on the barest hint of a smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

"You enjoy this?" he said, almost teasing.

"Yes, I could be persuaded to call this fun," she said. He was elated; fun was usually irrelevant.

The song ended. The Doctor let go of Seven, trying to hide his reluctance to do so, hating for this wonderful time to end. After all, it would never come again, he was sure. But it had to end; he was so terribly attracted to her, and couldn't be. And besides that, he was reminded that the Captain was counting on them as duty called...literally.

_Be-weep._ "The designated time for system and stasis unit maintenance will occur in ten minutes," said the computer's voice on a pre-set cue.

Seven spoke first. "Doctor, we should prepare to perform our duties." Then he saw his teaching kick in as she thought to be polite. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"You're welcome, Seven," he said warmly as they headed for the door. He wanted to say so much more, but didn't, couldn't.

Seven gave him a curt nod, businesslike again, and said, "I will meet you on Deck 14 in a few minutes. I wish to change into my usual attire." The Doctor was slightly disappointed; she was lovely always, but she looked even more beautiful as she was now, and so much more free with her hair down, as if its being up was a symbol of all that constrained her. But he nodded, and replied, "I'll do the same. See you there." She turned and walked down the corridor with her usual purpose, not looking back. He watched her until she was out of sight, and he was alone once more.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

The Doctor had already checked several stasis units when Seven entered.

"Where shall I start?" she asked.

"I would say with the back row, and we can meet in the middle."

She gave him one of her slight nods and began, efficient as always. The Doctor continued down his row, making sure heart rates were normal and body temperatures were holding steady. He made comments to each of his patients. "Captain, you're looking well today. Probably because you've had no coffee for the past four days. Ah, taking my advice at last! I knew the day would come"... "Mr. Paris, I might have to come back and check you later, seeing you're a little _tied up_ at the moment"... "Poor Lieutenant Torres, with a snarl on your face. Klingons can't even _sleep_ peacefully...not that I would really know about that, since I don't sleep"... "Hello, Mister Neelix. And how are we feeling today?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Seven, and saw she was giving him a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement. "I hope you don't expect an answer, Doctor." He smiled and chuckled. She continued, "Talking to persons in stasis is unproductive."

"Not if I amuse myself in the process, Seven."

"Amusing yourself is probably irrelevant."

"Would you rather amuse me instead?"

"If you want me to talk to the crew, then no."

He grinned and moved to the next unit. "Perhaps we could sing, then. A nice aria, or maybe just something simple, like the scales...give you a chance to practice your do-re-mi's. Oh, I need to make a slight adjustment to Naomi, the needs of children _are_ different, even in stasis. Anyway, what would you like to sing, Seven? ...Seven?" He turned around.

She was gone.

He looked wildly around the room, feeling a small sensation of panic. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine is in turbolift one."

The Doctor quickly finished making the adjustments to Naomi Wildman's stasis unit bolted out of the room and down a corridor, asking the computer for Seven's location every few moments. He tracked her until it became apparent that she was headed for the bridge. He realized her anti-hallucinogenic had most likely worn off, and that he should have given her another dose before coming to Deck 14. Why didn't he think to bring a hypospray with him? He ought to have had one nearby, just in case. _And I'm *programmed* to do these things!_ _This is what she does to me, she's able to make me forget even what I'm programmed to do, _he thought, exasperated.

"Seven? _Seven_!" he called. No response. But he heard her voice as he approached the bridge.

He burst into the room and looked around frantically, and found her staring at the blank viewscreen.

"No! I will resist!" she shouted at nothing, voice cracking but still under a measure of control.

"Seven! You're hallucinating!"

She ignored him, and began physically fighting with the figments of her imagination. The images certainly must be _very_ real to her, the Doctor thought. It was rather fascinating to watch her fight to the death with thin air, but he shrugged off his momentary hesitation and yelled, "Seven, listen to me!" as he went forward to grab her.

But she retreated from her invisible enemies before the Doctor could get a hold on her, and ran to a console. Following her, the Doctor saw her punching in new coordinates.

"Seven, no! Stop! You'll send the ship off course!" He made it to her this time and, grabbing her arms, pulled her away from the console. This was something new and frightening; before, she had always been aware of his presence and able to hear him speak to her. Now she was totally oblivious to everything but the monsters in her head.

He had to reenter the correct coordinates before dealing with her, and as he did she looked away at something else not there, eyes wild. "Get off this ship," she said in a simple and ice-deadly tone.

The Doctor continued trying to talk to her as he reset the computer. "Seven, you need to go to Sickbay, _now, definitely_ Doctor's orders!"

She turned to face another direction, saying in a carefully contrite tone, "I apologize...I am sorry...I have learned compassion...it is part of being human..." her voice dropped to a whisper and her hand went to her head. Her face contorted, lips curled. "It - will - never- go- away -" The words were slow, pained. Then, as if another personality had taken over, but one that was still Seven, her head snapped in another direction and her face filled with horror. "Doctor, you are destabilizing!" Her voice was tightly controlled panic.

Having corrected the coordinates, the Doctor could turn in surprise. He glanced down at himself to make sure she wasn't right, and breathed a simulated sigh of relief when he saw she wasn't. He approached her carefully. "Seven, it's alright! I'm right here! You just need to come with me to Sickbay..." he tried to gently lead her to the door, but she jerked away from him, and started in the opposite direction.

"Don't leave me! Please!" she pleaded. "I cannot be alone!" Arbitrarily, she ordered, "Red alert!" and the bridge was darkened with red light. The Doctor wanted to roll his eyes toward the now-reddened ceiling in exasperation, but didn't have time. Seven ran to another console and her eyes darted over it as her fingers flew over the controls; she seemed to be trying to stabilize the Doctor's matrix.

He lunged toward her and seized her arms again from behind, dreadfully afraid she would damage his program in her manic state. "Seven, _stop_! It's not real, it's not real!"

For a moment he thought he'd gotten through to her. She stopped struggling and her face was her usual mask of calm. He tried to move to face her, and she slowly turned towards him at the same moment.

He stood still, shocked . Her face, covered in the crimson light, was void of emotion, except for a single tear that ran slowly down her face. She did not even blink, but stared at him unnervingly, eyes purple in the evil glow, blank, cold, _old_.

_How could someone look so calm and so tortured at the same time? _he wondered, frozen. He, and no one else, had never, ever seen Seven cry, had never thought it possible. Of course the Doctor knew it was physically possible for her to cry, but what could move her to it, could shake her composure enough? Yet here it was. Under other circumstances, it would have been a milestone, a further sign of her returning humanity, a celebratory deepening of her surfacing emotions...but now it was unnatural, accompanied by no sound, set in a Borg face, out of a nightmare. The Doctor shuddered.

With no warning, the moment shattered and something tore from Seven's throat that was a cross between a _noooo_, a scream, and a wail. The Doctor jumped back, startled. Seven fell to the floor, hysterical.

"I believe a need has arisen for heroism," he muttered, and taking matters literally in his hands, he scooped Seven up and transported them both directly to Sickbay.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

With no warning, the moment shattered and something tore from Seven's throat that was a cross between a _noooo_, a scream, and a wail. The Doctor jumped back, startled. Seven fell to the floor, hysterical.

"I believe a need has arisen for heroism," he muttered, and taking matters literally in his hands, he scooped Seven up and transported them both directly to Sickbay.

* * * * *

It was a good thing that the Doctor was programmed to be immune to injury and physical pain. Seven, despite her slenderness, was an extremely strong woman and fought and kicked against the Doctor in ways that would have been deadly to a flesh and blood opponent. As it was, he was quite easily able to pin her down and inject the necessary drug into her neck, with a hefty dose of sedative added. He was relieved to see her relax as a peaceful look return to her face.

The enjoyment in the holodeck just a short time before now seemed very far away. The Doctor sat back on his heels and kicked himself again for allowing this to happen. Well, it certainly wouldn't happen again; he would not let Seven out of his sight, plus he'd carry a hypospray with him everywhere after this. At least his program _hadn't_ destabilized; he didn't want to imagine what might have happened if Seven had truly been alone in such a psychotic state.

He looked at her lying on the Sickbay floor. She had curled into a fetal position, an undeniable mark of her humanity. Strands of hair had come undone again, and whisped on her graceful, swan-like neck.

His heart of photons and light ached for her, for the stark pain he had seen her experience, the fear and guilt and other dark emotions she carried with her always. Only she alone could really deal with them, he knew, but how he longed to help her in some way, some how..._for me not to have her love is better than for her to not have our friendship_, he decided. _I will accept that, and will be there for her as friend and mentor for as long as she wishes._ But the nagging thought was still there, at the core of his matrix: _She needs *love.* I am only a hologram, but I can give her *that*...love would awaken new emotions, free a new part of her, give her more courage to fight these demons..._

No. It would be for someone else, someone _real._ The thought created such a sense of emptiness. And why not? He _was_ empty, he was a _hollow-gram_, a hollow man, no man at all, not in any way that could really matter to her. He felt a wrenching jealousy, made worse by the fact there there was as yet no object of it. Who would it be, he wondered bitterly. Who would she allow to love her, to touch her, to hold her when darkness preyed on her? Who would see her smile, hear her laugh, watch her changing face as she discovered yet another new thought or emotion? Who would show her Earth, be by her side there, help her rejoin life on her native planet, protect her when she was reviled by those who would fear her? Who would dance with her, sing to her, make love to her, know the thousand places from which _he_ had removed Borg metal and healed her...

If only he had been programmed not to feel any pain, any kind at all. Or if only he could bear it all for her, take the look he had seen on her face away, forever.

He lifted her gently off the cold floor, and noticing she was chilled, adjusted his heat output to a higher level. Strong and tall as she was, she was feathery in his arms, that had been programmed to be even stronger. He walked slowly to a biobed, trying to convince himself he was holding her this long only to warm her, trying to fight the pull to nuzzle her head with his. He glanced out at the pink nebula, and had a wild, fleeting wish that he could transport them both to some vacant nearby planet, where she would never meet anyone else, where she would learn to love him, where they would live together always, never to return. She would have approved of the efficiency with which he made himself delete this thought and set her on the biobed, preparing to return to his medical, clinical demeanor.

Except that he saw the rivulet running along her cheek, created on her face by her one tear. Not being able to help himself, he gently erased it with his finger, moving it down her cheek, wanting to kiss it away instead.

He pulled back quickly. He _had_ to stop touching her and thinking about her this way! He had to treat her professionally, as he would any other patient. He was her only physician until they reached Earth, after all.

"Computer, dim lights by 50 percent," he said in a resigned voice.

He needed to put some space between them, yet needed to be near. He went into his office and looked at her through the window. He wanted to be there when she awoke, so she would not be frightened.

For the moment, at least, she needed someone to watch over her.

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

Warm and leaden. Those were Seven's first sensations.

_Am I damaged?_ was her first thought.

Her eyes opened slowly, but purposefully, the way she preferred to begin any action.

_I am in Sickbay. The nebula...I must have been hallucinating again. _Some remembrance of the bridge returned, but she stubbornly blocked the thought, refusing to look at the unpleasantness of it again. She struggled to remember what she had been doing before. The memory of helping the Doctor with the stasis units came back to her, and then the previous one of their time on the holodeck.

The holodeck had been...enjoyable. The Doctor had remembered that she wanted to learn a new dance. He had tried to set her at ease when she felt uncomfortable. Although at times exasperating, he was truly a good friend.

Seven tried to sit up just slightly, but her head was still too groggy. Reluctantly, she lay still, head resting on her arm. She hated to be unproductive, but had learned over time that she had to take care of her de-Borged body or risk becoming even more unproductive.

Movement caught her eye, and she noticed the Doctor walking around in his office. Having nothing else to do, she watched him.

He did not seem like his everyday self; his face still looked sad and preoccupied, brow furrowed more than usual, his mouth set in a grim line instead of a self-satisfied smile, and the humming of particularly irritating opera pieces was not filling the Sickbay. Seven thought of the conversation in the holodeck and the missing song stanza. Something was certainly bothering him, of that she was sure. Could whatever it was be causing his recent behavior?

She also thought of the strange looks the Doctor had given her lately. A misconception among Voyager's crew was that Seven was oblivious to major social cues that came her way. It was not so; Seven was very perceptive, and a quick study in at least some cases, as the Doctor had come to learn. She simply did not know how to interpret what she observed, and thus chose many times to dismiss what was incomprehensible.

And so Seven had noticed Janeway's pride, Torres' disgust, Paris' amusement, and especially Commander Chakoty's fascination with her breasts. Some of these she understood and those she did not she thoroughly ignored. As for the Doctor, she had noted the odd looks, had noticed a peculiar light in his eyes when she walked into a room, a nervousness when she stood near him, and the way he stared at her, _all_ of her, in a manner much different than the Commander's sexual ogle, when he thought she wasn't looking. She had understood for a long time that he was especially protective of her, but these other behaviors were altogether new.

She hadn't the first idea of what they meant, nor how to classify them.

Her own reactions to them were just as baffling. Since she had noticed the new behaviors, she herself had experienced unfamiliar twinges of..._something._ During her new life on Voyager, Seven had learned to identify several emotions and what names to assign to them: _hate, jealousy, fear, shame, guilt._ Positive ones were harder; some of the nuances attached to _like _still eluded her, and most of what she knew of _love_ involved finding a mate and procreating. She knew affection was also a factor, but did not totally understand different levels of affection nor how they related to sexual acts. Chakoty's behavior, especially, was baffling. When she first came on board, he did not like her. Then, she had thought he was becoming her friend. But now, she wondered if his behavior was a manifestation of _love_ and whether or not the correct protocol would be for her to initiate a mating ritual. However, she did not know if the thought was acceptable to her, and in addition Harry Kim's reaction to her offer of the same had also been puzzling, so she had decided to keep her life as simple as possible by not asking. Love was also (as she told the Doctor) not a disease, although she had noted that some people certainly acted as if it were. Mixtures of emotions were even more puzzling. To understand feeling several emotions at the same time was incomprehensible and frustrating, and yet it occured in her on a regular basis.

She knew the Doctor was her friend and mentor. He _liked_ her and she _liked_ him, that much she understood. But what was the odd feeling that was created by his odd behavior? It was not pleasant and yet it was pleasant. Whatever that meant.

Seven touched her forehead. _Thinking this way is most inefficient and will not help the situation,_ she reasoned. _I should simply ask the Doctor to explain. _Something, however, made her balk at that idea, which was an equally illogical feeling. _I can only hope that someday technological advances will allow emotions to be conformed to mathematical principals, thereby establishing a sense of order, as in the case of music. _

Music. She remembered sitting at the table at Sandrine's, music playing in the background, and the Doctor looking at her _that _way. The candlelight had made his brown eyes appear to have sparks in them, making the look even more...just _more_, of whatever the illogical quality was that it possessed. And the _more_ had caused a greater _twinge_ than usual in her, a side effect of which she noted had been the physical manifestations of elevated respiration and heartbeat.

The physical sensations. She knew they affected her greatly, and probably because she was rarely in physical contact with anyone. She usually disliked being touched casually. But one had to touch one's partner when dancing. Was that sort of touching not _casual? _The feeling was certainly different. She tried to sort out why a motherly Janeway hand on her shoulder might make her feel bristlely, but the Doctor's warm, strong hand on her back or on the skin of her arm sent an undeniable shiver through her body. She briefly wondered what procreating felt like. Then she wondered why that thought would occur to her.

_Perhaps the emotions are a new aspect of friendship that I have not experienced before_, she considered. _Perhaps the physical sensations are a manifestation of an increased need for displays of affection from my friends. Perhaps this drug is altering my thought processes. Or perhaps I am ill, and the Doctor has yet to diagnose the problem. _She wondered if the nebula had something to do with it, like the hallucinations. But then she remembered that she had experienced similar sensations before entering the nebula, such as during her first dance lesson. It had also seemed to be present, although mixed with other feelings in a perplexing jumble, the time she learned that the Doctor would not be leaving Voyager for the petite alien groupie Tincoo.

She frowned at the memory. That whole incident had caused many emotions, and a great lot of negative ones.

Her thoughts on such topics ceased as the Doctor looked through the office window and saw her lying on the biobed with her eyes open. He immediately walked out to her, smiling warmly, seeming more like his usual self.

"Seven, it's good to see you awake. Computer, lights, 100 percent."He scanned her and seemed happy with the results. "How are you feeling?"

"I am still a little tired. I assume you had to sedate me."

He looked chagrined. "Yes. I'm afraid this time you couldn't hear me over the voices in your head." His mouth formed a tight line before he spoke again. "Seven, I am so sorry. I should have given you another injection and prevented this from happening. If it's any consolation, I suppose it slipped my mind because I was so preoccupied with the wonderful time I was having in the holodeck, enjoying your company." He smiled a little half-smile. "Very embarrassing for the best doctor in the Delta Quadrant." Seven gave him just the necessary hint of a _deflate-your-ego_ look. The Doctor complied. He looked down slightly, but his eyes looked towards her with a puppy-dog expression. "I hope you can forgive me."

She moved to sit up, and he moved to help her. "Your apology is accepted. Do not blame yourself, Doctor. I am undamaged. However, the nebula seems to be affecting my implants to a greater degree."

"That's true. I wonder if the radiation will get progressively worse, or if we just hit a bad spot?" She suspected he was worried that his program would corrupt, as well as being worried about her hallucinations.

"There are probably fluctuations in the radioactivity levels. I will confirm that." She tried to stand, but wisely sat down again, slowly. "Later."

"Yes, you need to wait for the sedative to wear off, and it should shortly. However, I do need to go finish our work on Deck 14." She wondered why he looked as if he had just told her he was going to beam himself light years away from Voyager. He also made no move to leave. She felt compelled to speak.

"I will wait here and rest," she assured him. An idea suddenly occurred to her.

"Will you be alright? Alone, I mean?"

She gave him a look most crew members interpreted as haughty, but which really held no malice and simply meant she was resolved. "I will be fine." He didn't seem convinced. She sighed and added, "Isolation is very bothersome only when I am under duress, or when it is prolonged. And you will not be absent long. You are efficient."

He smiled at that. "Very well then. I will return shortly." He still seemed to hesitate, but then he did turn and leave with a _swoosh_ of the Sickbay doors, glancing back just before they closed as if making sure Seven was still there.

Seven waited until she was sure he was gone.

"Computer, list versions of _The Phantom of the Opera_ in the music database."

She listened to the choices, picked one, and commanded the computer to list the song titles.

"Play Webber track 12, _All I Ask of You_, non-instrumental version."

Seven sat on the biobed and listened as the voices resonated through Sickbay, paying special attention to the stanzas the Doctor had censored.

_Say you love me  
every waking moment,  
turn my head  
with talk of summertime... _

_Then say you'll share with  
me one  
love, one lifetime..._

Share each day with  
me, each  
night, each morning...  
_Say you love me...  
You know I do...  
Love me -  
that's all I ask  
of you..._

The song ended. Seven sat, thinking. After several minutes, she came to a few conclusions, and promptly dismissed further thought on the subject for the time being. She stood up slowly, stretched, and strode to a console to engage in other thoughts she was eminently more comfortable with: collecting data on the nebula.

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

The song ended. Seven sat, thinking. After several minutes, she came to a few conclusions, and promptly dismissed further thought on the subject for the time being. She stood up slowly, stretched, and strode to a console to engage in other thoughts she was eminently more comfortable with: collecting data on the nebula.

* * * * *

The Doctor arrived back in Sickbay even sooner than Seven had expected. He was not going to leave her alone again any longer than he had to. She greeted him with the results of her analysis.

"Doctor, I was correct. We are experiencing fluctuations in the radioactivity levels. We passed through a particularly high-level area during my last hallucinatory episode. It seems to have dropped significantly for the moment, but I am detecting another high-level area just before we exit the nebula." She looked from the console to him. "I honestly do not know why your program has not been affected."

"Well, B'Elanna did do a little precautionary tinkering with me. Let's hope it holds out." He turned to the tools of his trade and began to prepare Seven's next hypospray. Finished with the console, Seven put her hands behind her back in her familiar posture and looked at the Doctor's back.

"You are in love with someone," she stated.

He dropped the hyprospray but caught it before it hit the floor and turned slowly. "Wha...what?"

"I believe Mr. Paris would say, good save," she said with a tilt of her head, looking at the hypospray in his hand.

"But, what...did..."

"I said, you are in love with someone. It is the only logical explanation for your behaviors...some of them, at any rate," she said, the last more to herself. "The part of the song that you did not wish to sing in the holodeck is about love. You said it reminded you of something you cannot have; therefore, I assume you have strong feelings for someone, and the object of your affection does not share your feelings."

He stood there staring at her. She took that to mean she was right, and continued.

"I am aware that this has happened at least once before, with your..._fan_, Tincoo. You should inform me of the details of this situation. Perhaps I can convince the other person to... attempt a relationship, I suppose." She paused. "As your friend, I do not enjoy seeing you hurt," she finished, with sincere concern.

The Doctor's face had grown more surprised as she spoke, but at the word _friend_ it fell slightly. He searched for words. "Seven, I...I don't know what to say," he said honestly.

She stood in her ramrod pose, waiting patiently for a further response.

His mind worked wildly. He felt like a virus under his own microscope. He certainly couldn't lie to her. If he said he did not want to discuss it, she would acquiese for the moment, but he did not think she would really let it go. _She noticed my "behaviors." Idoit, idiot, idiot... _His hand clenched into a fist and he looked at the floor.

_You could always do what you didn't do on the holodeck weeks ago. You could just tell her the truth_, a small voice said somewhere in his program.

He contemplated. What did he really have to lose? There was already pain. There would be humilation and more pain, but it certainly hadn't been the first time. What crew member _hadn't_ he humiliated himself in front of? Of course, this would be much worse, but at least they were alone. There was no one to overhear, no one to gossip. Only if Seven mentioned it later, and she wasn't given to talking much, or to just anyone, about personal matters. She could get all the laughing and looks of disgust and horror out of her system before the crew was awakened. If he was going to do it, now was the time.

He looked up, somewhat defeatedly. "Seven, I do need to talk to you. If you'll accompany me to the holodeck again, I'll tell you all about it."

"Why not talk here?"

"I would just feel more comfortable talking there." _At least I can get my heart torn to pieces in a nice setting_, he thought bitterly.

She nodded. "Very well. What attire would be appropriate this time?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, so dejectedly that she began to feel she should not have said anything.

"Doctor, if you would rather not, I understand..."

"No, I want to tell you." _I want to get this over with! _"Meet me there in a few minutes."

She nodded and left Sickbay.

He stayed long enough to quickly finish preparing the hypospray and put it in a medkit, then left with it before he could change his mind.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

"No, I want to tell you." _I want to get this over with! _"Meet me there in a few minutes."

She nodded and left Sickbay.

He stayed long enough to quickly finish preparing the hypospray and put it in a medkit, then left with it before he could change his mind.

* * * * *

He waited for her outside Sandrine's, on the night sidewalk of a Paris street, in view of the river Seine. The silver light from a full moon caused soft, ever-changing sparkles on the water, and the golden light from Sandrine's windows cast glowing squares on the sidewalk and street. A streetlight stood in a circle of its own brightness, making the darkness around it deeper. Music and muffled sounds of talking and laughing spilled out of the cafe and into the air.

The Doctor paced, hands in the pockets of his pants. He had decided at the last minute to change back into his previous suit; after all, if he was going to do it in this setting, he might as well do it all the way.

The Paris atmosphere made him think of _Les Miserables_. He stopped pacing and looked at the river. He began to sing softly, his voice increasing gradually as he was caught up in song.

_In the rain, the pavement shines like silver_

_All the lights are misty in the river_

_In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight_

_And all I see is her and me forever and forever..._

_And I know it's only in my mind_

_That I'm talking to myself, and not to her_

_And although I know that she is blind_

_Still I say, there's a way for us_

_I love her_

_But when the night is over_

_She is gone, the river's just a river_

_Without her, the world around me changes_

_The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers_

_I love her_

_But every day I'm learning _

_All my life, I've only been pretending_

_Without me, her world will go on turning_

_The world is full of happiness that I have never known..._

"Doctor."

He jumped, not having heard her come in.

_Oh, oh dear_. She was standing in the glowy light of the window. She had changed, this time into a flowy but form-fitting, light-colored dress reminescient of Earth 1940s fashions, and it looked so soft he yearned to touch it. Her hair was down but with the sides pulled back, as it had been the night of her date, but now a few of the whisps of hair that always wanted to come undone were allowed to do so. Why couldn't she have kept her usual stern hairstyle, her usual bodysuit? She was of course obviously sensual in what she wore every day, but seeing her in something different and softer made this moment worse. Disdain would be all the more terrible coming from so angelic a creature. He gulped.

Seven looked down at herself, and asked for the second time in so many hours, "Is this unacceptable?"

"No, it's...you're...beautiful, Seven. Here, please sit down," he said, motioning to a bench just outside the door to Sandrine's.

They sat. Half of her face was in the light from Sandrine's window and the ocular implant side in shadow. He gathered his thoughts.

"Seven, you are right," he began with difficulty. "I am in love with someone. I am _desperately_ in love with someone."

"Who does not return your affection," Seven interjected.

"No, I am almost certain she does not."

"_Almost_ certain. Then you have not told her your feelings."

The Doctor stood up and walked a little distance away. "It is very hard for me to say this, Seven -"

"I am your friend. You can talk to me."

He closed his eyes. There was the _f_ word again, stabbing him. And why? In a flash of insight, he realized he couldn't fool himself. Her friendship could never be enough again, not after this. He had a ridiculous urge to jump in the Seine. _Holographic Man Drowns Himself in Holographic River_, the headline in _Le Monde_ would say. _Out with it, already! _

He opened his eyes, and her blue ones were looking up at him, waiting. He tried to speak and couldn't, then managed to force out a subtle approach. "I...I _am_ telling her my feelings."

Seven looked at him blankly. "Explain."

He glanced skyward and clenched his hands into fists. Did he have to draw the woman a map of the universe? In exasperation he blurted out, "It's YOU Seven, I love _you_!"

He looked at her surprised face just long enough to see her eyebrows fly up as it started to sink in, then turned away from her quickly, grabbing the lamp post for support. He couldn't bear to see the reality of her reaction, the one he had already seen in his mind in his lowest moments when he had imagined this scene. He kept talking, hoping somehow it would help. If he said these things first, he didn't have to hear it coming from her. "You don't have to say it, I know you don't love me. Don't be condescending to me, Seven, please. I know it's impossible. I know I'm only a hologram, and a pompous, paranoid one at that. I'm not real, I'm nothing but a program, Starfleet equipment, and so on. Please don't say it, I know it already. And I've tried not to feel this way, but I just can't help it, Seven....I just can't..." He pressed his forehead against the pole, standing in its circle of light. "I..."

"How can you love me." A statement and a question, delivered in the same calm tone she would have used to reply if he had just told her the Parisian weather report, but with an unmistakable taint of accusation.

The Doctor froze. _What?_ "What?" He had figured she would have left the holodeck by now. But she was still here, asking this question that made no sense. He faced her, almost afraid. "Wha- what do you mean?"

She stood, moving out of the window's light and into the moon's. "I mean two things. First, I mean I do not understand how you can feel romantic love for me if we are friends. Secondly -" she paused and took a breath - "I do not comprehend how you could love _me_."

The Doctor's eyes went wide. This was _not_ what he had expected to hear, not in the wildest stretch of his imagination subroutines. He was amazed that they were having a conversation at all. The Earth phrase _truth is stranger than fiction_ came to mind. He had thought he would be emotionally carved up with Seven's usual efficiency and left for dead. And what on Voyager was she saying? "I - I still don't - understand, Seven," he stammered.

She looked extremely uncomfortable. How had the tables suddenly turned, and she was standing here before him, as exasperated as he had just been, trying to say something?

He tried to help. "Just tell me one thing at a time," he said softly, still amazed.

She took a deep breath and tried to elaborate. "You and the rest of Voyager's crew have taught me what friendship is, but love is a harder concept for me. I am often confused by different kinds of love. I know the mating act is considered romantic love. I have studied Paris and Torres' relationship - sometimes involuntarily," she said, the last with a roll of her eyes. "I - do not really know how to explain, other than to say I do not understand how two people can feel friendly affection for each other and yet also feel romantic love."

The Doctor was stunned. He was stupid, so stupid. The complete irony of a hologram being chosen to teach her social interaction fell on him. He should have known. Emotions and relationships were made separate entities in her neatly categorized mind. And the simpler the concept, the easier it was to overlook, to assume. He had taught her to dance, to make conversation, all the while too oblivious to her struggles with basic emotions. He contemplated, and saw that she indeed had no example on Voyager whereby to understand; the only couple she knew anything of was Paris and Torres, and they had not exactly been what Seven (or many others, for that matter) would have called _friendly_ to each other before beginning their relationship.

"When you said there is no suitable mate for you aboard Voyager..." his voice trailed off.

"It is because there is no one aboard who does not either dislike me intensely or is not my friend. Dislike seems to have worked for Paris and Torres, but that is another prelude to romance that I'm afraid I do not understand."

A tiny spark of hope ignited, but was tempered by fear. He tried to explain in a rush. "Oh Seven, I should have explained before. I thought you...well, never mind. The point is, Seven, the very best of romantic relationships often start as friendships. It - it grows, starts off as friendly affection and the affection grows stronger until it is love, romantic love. And the act of mating itself is not love, just the manifestation of it. Love can be an act and not just a feeling, but not _that_ kind of act. Just acts that show you care very much, in a romantic way, about someone else." She looked at him bewilderedly. He sighed, knowing his explanation was disjointed. "It's just very hard to explain, Seven. But just know that friends _can_ also be lovers."

He searched her face for an answer to the unspoken, feeling distress all over again when he found none.

"I will take your word for it," she said simply.

The Doctor tried to control his rioting emotions. "And the next question...?" he forced himself to ask, ignoring his own feelings for the moment in an attempt to get her to continue opening up to him. Seven rarely spoke this much about anything, much less about herself and uncomfortable subjects.

"How can you feel love for me - " She paused, while in the silence he screamed inwardly _How can I not?_ She continued. " - when I have tortured, maimed, and murdered millionsof individuals. This was irrelevant to me in the past, but over time my conscience has developed, and I have experienced guilt...as you know," she added, and his memory flashed to the image of her strapped to a biobed, screaming as she lived her victim's assimilation, and other, similarly horrific journeys she had taken on her road to individuality. She continued. "I am aware that these feelings are illogical. I acted as part of the collective. I am no longer part of the collective." Her lip trembled almost imperceptibly in strained distress as she kept hidden pain under tight rein. "However, knowing they are illogical does not negate them."

Something else surfaced in her eyes. For a moment he mistook it as the familiar disdainful and almost disgusted look, the one that made the object of it feel nonexistant, or at least sure that she was about to casually dismiss the recipient from her world altogether. But then he recognized the shadow of the look he had seen earlier on the bridge. It was directed inward, not outward. He squinted slightly, as if doing so would help him to better perceive...and somehow it did. He understood, for the first time, that what he saw was her self-loathing.

"No, Seven..." he whispered, any other words eluding him.

She took a breath before going on. "I am accustomed to being disliked, feared, and hated. I have become accustomed to being liked by some. A few have expressed interest in having intimate relations with me. But I have never, since being freed from the collective, been told I am _loved_ by anyone." She said the word as if it were in an unfamiliar alien dialect. A muscle in her face twitched. "It is hard to accept...and perplexing." She tilted her head. "Or, by saying you love me, are you merely expressing a wish to have intimate relations with me?"

This last jolted the Doctor. _Not believing someone can love her, not even understanding what that means, she has reverted to thinking I am only feeling *lust*!_ He found his voice again, speaking sternly, and almost angrily. "No, I mean _yes_, I do, but Seven, that's not it, not at all!" He walked to her, fast, and took hold of her hands, the metal on the one cool in his. "Seven, you know the guilt will always be with you. Almost everyone carries their own share of that kind of burden. But it doesn't mean you are not worthy of love. You must believe you _can_ be loved, and _should_ be loved! And that does _not _mean merely feelings tied in only with the moment, the physical. It means a strong and enduring love for who you are, all of you, in and out, as a human...a person...a unique individual, and acceptance for _all_ the past that made you who you are right now." His brows knitted together as he worried that his speech was again woefully inadequate, did not even begin to explain...and he gave up, sighing. "Like many other emotions, I'm afraid you will have to experience love to truly understand." Plucking up courage, he asserted earnestly, "_I_ could...try to show you this kind of love, if you would let me."

She looked at him, blue eyes beautiful but unreadable again, mouth parted slightly without saying anything. He thought the moonlight revealed tears in one of her eyes, but of course they did not fall. Her silence was long enough for his own insecurities to creep up and threaten to choke him. Music still was heard faintly in the background, mixed with the lapping of the Seine. He let go of her hands gently and turned away. "No," he answered for her. "You can't, because I am a hologram." He knew it summed up everything.

"That is irrelevant."

He turned back around. Just how many surprises was he in for? Irrelevant. A permanent obstacle for forming relationships, for being accepted into almost any society, the cause of constant hindrances and battles, what he had struggled to grow beyond...and she dismissed all with a single _irrelevant_. He could have laughed.

"Irrelevant? How can you possibly say that?" He wondered why he was arguing against himself. Was he trying to convince her he was right? What if he succeeded? But he couldn't seem to stop. "I can't get away from the relevancy of it! I am not human! I am not a person! I am nothing but photons and light." Not meaning to, his voice escalated to shouting. "I can do too much, I can do too little, and everything I do, I am programmed to do, and everything I am, I am programmed to be!"

Seven looked insulted, and impatient, as if the Doctor had missed something blatantly obvious. "Doctor, you are more real and more human than many so-called persons I have met since I was freed from the collective. I would hope you would not think me capable of thinking otherwise of you. It would be wrong." She glanced down at the square of light on the ground and back up. Furthering her explanation, she went on, "I would be a hypocrite to do so, since I am not human either."

He was taken aback. "Not human...? What do you mean? _Of course_ you are human. I have the medical records to prove it, you know, " he said rather sarcastically.

She looked at him askance. "I may not be a hologram, but I am certainly not truly human. I have Borg technology in my body, and most likely always will. Even if the last traces of the technology were removed, a part of my Borg life will remain with me as surely as my guilt. In a sense, I am programmed too. I can never be Annika again." Saying the name sent a flicker of another emotion over her face. "And yet I am no longer a Borg drone, Seven of Nine. I am something undefineable in between. I am simply Seven. I am an individual." She lifted her chin and looked him intensely in the eyes. "As are you."

He felt the warmth of those words, glowing around him like the light from the window they were standing in again, like the spark of hope in him that still glowed too.

"Seven, _could_ you love me?" A stupid question, having established that love was confusing to her. But he had to ask.

She looked at him a moment before speaking. Then came the honest reply.

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, not me, no infringement intended.

* * * * *

"Seven, _could_ you love me?" A stupid question, having established that love was confusing to her. But he had to ask.

She looked at him a moment before speaking. Then came the honest reply.

* * * * *

"I do not know."

Well. There it was. She was confused, but she still meant _no..._didn't she? She usually said what she meant. But she certainly hadn't said _yes._ He did not know what to feel either. But really, did he expect it could turn out any differently? At least she had been kind. It could have been so very much worse. She could have said a flat out no, or his worst imaginings could have come true. And he had learned more about her and himself. He nodded, and tried to smile at her and think of something to say, but failed miserably. He turned and looked at the the ever-changing moonlight on the river, wondering what to do now. _Without me, her world will go on turning..._

Her voice interrupted his reflections. Apparently still pondering whether he could be a suitable mate, she began to list aloud his attributes as she walked in and out of the window light.

"You are a talented doctor. You are kind, gentle, loyal, and heroic. You seek to improve yourself. You give your best to everything you attempt. You can be witty. You are efficient..."

Was she really considering...? Amid a constricting anxiety, his hope flared up and burned brightly.

"...and your physical parameters are acceptable."

He started to smile. She didn't even mention his lack of hair!

Then she began to list his shortcomings.

"You are also, as you stated, pompous and paranoid. You can be overzealous, egotistical, and impatient. At times you are annoying, and you engage in irrelevant behaviors such as daydreaming. You crave attention. You..."

The Doctor interrupted, miffed. "Well excuse me, but might I point out that _you_ can be bitter, arrogant, tactless, pushy, and anal-retentive," he asserted, giving her a chastising look.

She was unaffected, except for the amusement clearly playing on her face. "I left your honesty off the list, an attribute that is very important to me."

He smiled a crooked smile in spite of himself, and said, "That one belongs on _your_ list, too."

Her voice grew softer, and she asked, "And you love me regardless of these flaws?"

"Yes, Seven," he said gently, moving closer to her and gazing in her eyes. "Love hides a multitude of sins, and you have so many more wonderful qualities. You are easy to love. To me you are..." What was the best compliment one could give an ex-Borg? "Perfection."

At that, vulnerability took over her expression, and her voice.

"Then I am willing to try."

_Boing!_ went his holographic heart. He was not sure she meant what he wanted to believe she meant. He moved closer to her, and held her hands again. "You are willing to try...a romantic relationship with me?"

She seemed to be performing calculations in her head. "Yes," she concluded, holding his hands firmly, her voice low, but certain-sounding. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard; no music he had ever encountered had sounded so sweet. The Doctor felt light-headed, although he wasn't programmed to feel such things, and he smiled a genuine, happy, relieved smile. Seven's intense, lovely face told him that she was experiencing a myriad of new emotions.

Each gazed at the other for a quiet moment, contemplating the new understanding between them. A bittersweet melody drifted out from Sandrine's.

"I have been experiencing an unfamiliar emotion lately when I am near you," Seven confessed almost in a whisper. "It may be a form of love. I was reluctant to tell you before, but it seems appropriate now."

"I look forward to diagnosing it," the Doctor said softly.

"I do not believe it is a disease," Seven replied. "Although I have been suspicious."

The Doctor smiled from ear to ear. He was sure he must look goofy, but he couldn't stop. He told her in zealous happiness, "Seven, you'll see. It will be wonderful!"

"It should be quite an adventure," she said, somewhat drily.

"We will be good for each other," he continued. "Individuals, together...I want to make you happy, Seven. I..."

"I have changed my mind."

He blinked with surprise. He grasped her hands tighter. Something in him knotted, and his brows came together in worry. "Already!?" he choked out.

The corners of her mouth smiled their barely-there smile. "My social lessons, Doctor. I said I would not be needing more. I have changed my mind. I believe I will need more dancing lessons...more dating etiquette..." She cocked her head to one side. "Perhaps a lesson in kissing."

He smiled again, relieved he had misunderstood. "I'll teach you anything you want to know," he said breathlessly. He was sure she could teach him a few things. Her face in the window glow was serenely radiant. He looked at her lips. He had always thought they were an absolutely perfect shape, and that dimple under them in her chin somehow made them all the more sensual. And now his dream of kissing them was going to come true.

She looked expectant, but he was struck with nervousness. So instead he asked, "Seven, will you dance with me again?" She nodded. He turned to open his medkit, which was sitting on the bench. "Let's take care of you first, just in case." He took out the hypospray and gave her her injection. Then he took her by the hand and led her into Sandrine's.

"Ah, monseiur et mademoiselle, Bon Soir!" the bartender called out to them. "I zee zhou ave finally decided to come een, n'est-ce pas? We ave been watching zhou lovers out zee weendow for zome time now, ooh la la!" From a corner came giggles.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Computer, delete characters." If he ever wanted to be alone with Seven, it was now. They walked to the empty dance floor and he ordered the computer to play a waltz.

Seven assumed the dance position he had taught her, standing slightly away from him, one hand in his and one hand on his shoulder. They danced the waltz this way, as they had before, but it seemed to both as if they were doing it for the first time. Once the waltz ended, the Doctor ordered a very slow song. But this time he put the hand in his on his chest, put his arm tighter around her back, and drew her much closer to him. He felt her tremble as they made full contact. The fabric of her dress _was_ as soft under his hands as he had imagined! He put his head against hers, closed his eyes, and started to move slowly. He reveled in the sensation of holding her: her back warm underneath the soft material, her breasts pressing gently into his chest, her thigh touching his as they danced. He hummed the song that was playing softly in her ear.

He had to draw back slightly before the song was over; he wanted to look at her, hoped she was enjoying this as much as he was. He was utterly delighted when he saw her expression, a new one of enchantment, and knew it was so.

They had never been so physically close to each other before, not even when he had comforted her in Sickbay. The dancing slowed to a stop as they hesitated, noses millimeters apart, wanting to breach the gap, both nervous. The Doctor touched her face with one hand, and then held it there as he let himself do what he had wanted to do for so long, and brought his lips down on hers, slowly.

_I am kissing Seven of Nine_, he thought incredulously. But he had known it would be just like this. Her lips were soft and sweet and expressive against his, and the moment magic and tremulous, as when he had imagined kissing her all those thousands of times.

It was just a gentle, nervous, experimental kiss. But the experiment worked. Bittersweet joy tore at them as each responded to the other with a kiss full of the pent-up passion of lonely individuals suddenly discovering one another, misguided emotions finally finding the right target, guarded hearts opening at the very beginning of love.

When they finally parted they studied each other for an endless moment, sorting out what they had been to each other over the years. Fellow crewmembers, doctor/patient, teacher/student, friends...lovers. Then Seven spoke in a whisper, going with the logic of the latest role.

"Do we engage in sexual activities now?"

The Doctor's first impulse was to scream yes, a resounding yes, and throw her on the piano while ripping off the dress. He wickedly wondered if his programming would allow him to multitask...he could just see himself playing a rousing tune and ravishing her at the same time.

But of course, it would have to wait. He knew she needed time, even if she didn't know. He had harbored secret fears for her, wondering if her first experiences would be gratifying, or if whoever she chose to be with would be in it only for themselves. The Doctor was sure the ship was crawling with shallow crewmen who would pay attention only to what pleasure they could derive from her voluptuous body, and having no clue about relating to the woman inside it. He was so very thankful she had chosen to be with him; again there was the irony of a hologram helping her be human, but he would make sure that this next step in regaining her humanity was all it should be. After all, he knew, no one loved her like he did.

So he answered her softly, "I do want to, but no, not yet, Seven. We should take it slowly. Like dancing...first we become comfortable with all the steps, and then we waltz."

She looked somewhat disappointed, but slowly nodded assent, looking at him still with a wonder in her blue eyes that he had never seen before. He gazed at her with intensity in his brown ones, hoping the memory of her face at this moment was never, ever erased from his program.

But then, something playful yet commanding came over her. She took a step away from him.

"Computer, delete the EMH's jacket."

His jacket disappeared.

"Seven, why did you do that?"

"I wish to undress you."

The Doctor's eyebrows flew up.

"Computer, delete EMH footwear."

The Doctor stood barefoot and jacketless. "Seven, if it weren't for my acute modesty I might be able to enjoy your game, but I really don't think I'm ready for this..."

"I do not intend to _do_ anything, Doctor. I am merely curious. Computer, delete EMH shirt."

There was that curiousity again. He would have to tell her the one about killing the cat! He crossed his arms over his bare chest, getting flustered and embarrassed. "Seven...!"

"I promise I will stop after one more deletion. Computer, delete EMH pants."

This left him standing in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. He knew she was going to see him like this eventually, but this wasn't how he had intended it to happen!

If this were anyone else, he would have lost it. But he couldn't really be angry at her. Especially since she actually looked as if she were enjoying herself. A little embarrassment on his part was worth that. Even when she looked at the boxers and smiled a small but genuine smile.

"I hope the physical parameters Lewis Zimmerman gave me are acceptable," he sighed.

She came back to him and kissed him. _Well, I *must* still be acceptable_, he thought happily. Watching Seven of Nine actually walking up to him and feeling her plant those petulant, full lips on his made him feel like his matrix might implode. She ran her hand over his chest, and he felt his modesty going out Sandrine's window. And why not? No one else was there, even holocharacters, and Seven obviously wanted to experiment. Again he felt the wild relief that she was doing this with _him_ and not someone else. Another dream come true. As he before had to tell himself he was kissing Seven of Nine to believe it, it was now quite incomprehensible that he was half-naked while _she_ was kissing _him_. He just wouldn't let the experimentation go too far, not yet. If he could help it, which at this moment was debatable.

She pressed herself into his now-exposed self again, every curve from legs to head, to feel the reaction. She got one. He kissed her deeply, held her tightly to him with one arm while running his fingers through her hair. She ran her hands over his body, learning what it was like to do so. He discovered that her hands, always agile on a console, were just as agile when giving caresses. He was overwhelmed with the sensations...her breath coming a little faster, that gold hair soft and flowy in his hand, her heart beating through her breast to his chest, her tongue beginning to gently flicker over his own. The Doctor wished it could be like this forever...forget medicine, music, everything. There was nothing, nothing but her, always.

_Zzzt._

The noise intruded on the passionate moment. Seven jumped back.

_Zzzt._

The Doctor looked down, seeing himself waver and then solidify again. Seven stated the obvious.

"Doctor, your program is destabilizing. We must have entered the last, and worst, of the radiation."

_Damn_, he was hoping he would last all the way through. He quickly gave Seven instructions as Sandrine's began to blip out, too. "I have to deactivate myself immediately. Get my medkit; there's another hypospray for you in it, but you'll have to inject yourself. It should last until we're through the nebula. You'll be on your own again, Seven -"

"I will be fine."

" - but remember..." he paused - "I love you." It was so wonderful to be able to tell her, even if she didn't respond in kind, even though at the words her face still showed confusion and a certain hesitation at the idea. It was just that so much had happened in so short a time; they had gone emotional light years in hours. But she would learn to sort out her feelings and to love him as he loved her, he was sure of it.

"Computer, deactivate EMH."

He disappeared, and Sandrine's went with him. Seven held out her hand and the Doctor's mobile emitter fell neatly into it.

She held it as if it were a rare jewel. Then, as she looked at it, it changed shape in her hand and became a silver heart.

"I am hallucinating," she said to the holodeck grid. But she continued to stare another moment in amazement at the first pleasant hallucination she had ever had. The amazement blended into an emotional kaleidescope. The affection..._love_...in the Doctor's words echoed in her head, and the feel of his kiss still lingered. _To me you are...perfection._

Her hand closed over the heart protectively. She picked up the medkit and strode out of the holodeck to complete her mission, efficiently as always, fearlessly.

* * * * *

"How are you doing with getting the Doctor back online?"

Janeway asked B'Elanna the question between sips of coffee. How she ever survived a week without coffee, even in stasis, was beyond her. She took a larger sip, making up for lost time.

"Almost there, Captain."

The doors _whooshed _open, admitting Tom and Seven to the room. B'Elanna paused in her work long enough to smile at her flyboy, who asked her, "Is the Doc back yet?"

"I'm working on him."

Tom looked over B'Elanna's shoulder at her console. "I can't wait to hear what my Sickbay duties are this week," Tom snorted. "I'm sure while we were snoozing he was dreaming up a list for me a mile long."

"I came to see if you require my assistance," Seven informed B'Elanna and the Captain, ignoring Tom.

"Thank you, but I think B'Elanna has got it under control." Janeway smiled a warm, proud smile at Seven. "I want to commend you again, Seven, for your exemplary performance of duty. The ship and crew were in your care, entirely for the last day, and all came through once again with flying colors."

"Thank you, Captain."

"I'm bringing the Doctor back online," B'Elanna announced.

There was a brief flickering, but then he was there...in his boxer shorts, and nothing more.

Janeway's coffee mug froze halfway to her mouth. B'Elanna gaped. Tom outright guffawed. And Seven's eyes became very, very wide.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." The Doctor noticed the reactions in the room just as his memory subroutines kicked in. "Seven?" He said, looking at her, then quickly looked in horror down at himself, and emitted a startled yelp.

"AAAEEEKKK!!! DEACTIVATE EMH!" he yelled, and blipped out once more.

"I brought him back as he was when he was deactivated, Captain," B'Elanna managed to get out, starting to choke on her suppressed laughter.

As this sank in, all eyes turned slowly to Seven. She did not say anything, but began to resemble the old Earth device called a thermometer, her blood clearly showing through her pale skin as it crept up her neck to her face.

So much for no rumors.

"B'Elanna, Tom...I would like to speak with Seven alone, please."

"Yes, _ma'am_," Tom answered, and he and B'Elanna exited the room as fast as possible. They could be heard dissolving into fits of riotous giggling in the corridor before the doors had even closed.

Janeway was valiantly keeping her own laughter under control. "Seven, is there something you'd like to talk to me about?"

Seven was still red. She did not look at Janeway. "No."

The Captain tried to phrase it, carefully, another way. "I am not trying to pry, Seven, but as Captain I need to know what's going on with my crew." She paused. No response. She went for gentle bluntness. "Did something happen between you and the Doctor, Seven?"

Seven suddenly looked calm and in control again. She turned to Janeway, looked her in the eye, and boldly replied, "Not nearly enough, Captain."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not nearly enough happened between me and the Doctor, Captain. But I trust there will be another opportunity."

There was silence as Janeway opened her mouth and shut it again, wordlessly. She turned away and rubbed her hand over her face, trying to wipe away the smile that threatened to break out.

When she regained a measure of captainlike decorum, she turned back around. "Well...since you are apparently responsible for his state of undress, I will leave you to the task of putting him back in his uniform." Seven nodded coolly.

Janeway made for the door, but turned around just before leaving. "Oh, and Seven...I trust you remember Michael Sullivan, from the Fair Haven program?" Seven nodded. Janeway continued, understandingly. "If you ever need to talk to someone about relationships with holograms, please don't hesitate to come to me."

"Thank you, Captain."

The doors closed behind Janeway and she leaned against the corridor wall, finally able to grin from ear to ear. Seven and the Doctor. Who would have imagined. She chuckled. The influence of that nebula must have been greater than they knew. And she had to sleep through it! What a shame. Ah, things should really get interesting on this ship now.

She thought of Michael. Maybe it was time to visit Fair Haven again.

Seven took a deep breath and began restoring the Doctor to his original appearance. Being of course efficient and productive, it did not take her long, and she soon brought him back online.

"Please state the nature of the..." The memory subroutines kicked in again, and the Doctor looked at himself and around the room all at once in a panic. He sighed in relief at seeing himself in his uniform and no one else but Seven.

He gave Seven a _why do these things always happen to me?_ look. "Please tell me there is a problem with my memory subroutines, and I didn't just flash the Captain _and_ B'Elanna _and_ Tom!"

"Your memory subroutines are working perfectly."

He groaned. "Wonderful. I'm sure the tale is halfway across the ship by now." He suspected from her face that something had been said regarding the two of them as well. "Not to mention rumors about...us," he said gingerly.

She cut her eyes away from him. "I apologize, Doctor. It was my fault. I acted foolishly."

He stepped forward a bit and tried to correct her assessment of her behavior in his mentor voice. "You were being playful, Seven, and experimenting with sexuality. Such behavior is an important part of exploring your humanity." He gave her a half-smile. "I didn't mind it when we were alone. Maybe we could do it again sometime."

She did not respond. Her eyes still were turned away from his. He started to worry at her uncomfortableness. He had hoped she might come to him, but she remained behind the console, as if needing a barrier between them. The nebula experience had been out of the ordinary, the holodeck magical. Now that they were back to everyday life on Voyager, was she regretting everything that had happened? A fear of losing her, if he could even say he ever really had her, tightened around his matrix.

She finally looked at him, her jaw set. He felt as if someone had put his program on pause. He was sure she was about to say what she didn't on the holodeck, that it was a mistake, there was no possible way she could have a relationship with him, and why would he ever think she could? Maybe she had merely toyed with him as if he were a holographic doll. It always seemed to happen this way. Every time he thought he could have something meaningful with anyone, it turned out he was deluding himself. He felt the ache well up within him. She finally spoke.

"I have decided..." she paused. He set his mouth together in a thin line of disappointment and looked away. "I have decided that what others think is irrelevant," she stated. "The only relevancy is between you and I."

The Doctor looked back at her. Her cool blue eyes regarded him with determination, lips parted just slightly as she waited for his response. She would never cease to amaze him, and he loved her all the more for it. A deep, sweet joy wrapped itself around him, a feeling she gave him like a fan letter, a gift. "I think you're absolutely right, Seven."

She stepped out from behind the console and walked slowly towards him, opening her hand to reveal his mobile emitter. She looked at it strangely for a brief second before attaching it to his arm.

"I require nutritional supplements. Accompany me to the mess hall," she commanded.

"As you wish," he replied, thinking he would accompany her anywhere. "And then I will accompany you to the Cargo Bay. You need to regenerate; Doctor's orders." He wagged a finger at her.

"As you wish."

He offered her his arm and she took it. They left, for whatever other adventures might lie ahead, together.

END


End file.
